Agent Mothman
by MissEgypt111
Summary: Dib sees the Mothman apparition, which warns of a coming explosion resulting in fifteen deaths. !!UPDATED!! Now for the "Half Light" music video parody, as promised! THIS BE THE FINAL INSTALLMENT!!!
1. Fifteen Will Die

This story may be somewhat confusing to those who haven't seen "The Mothman Prophecies." Or it might not be. At any rate, this was inspired by that general idea.and for those of you who don't know, the Mothman is supposedly a paranormal omen of death. A good website for information on the legend of the Mothman is www.themothmanlives.com. And I'm rambling. Just read the fic now. Review while you're at it.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing! Nothing, I tell you! Wait a minute. Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones is mine.  
  
AGENT MOTHMAN  
  
Chapter One: Fifteen Will Die  
  
Ms. Bitters leered over the class like always, random cockroaches running through her hair. "Well, class, your hideous lesson for today does not require your textbooks. Instead we shall have a verbal lecture on the proper way to cope with Armageddon."  
  
No one cared. Zim prodded a dead fly on his desk and Dib drew pictures of dissected aliens and crop circles. A random, foul-smelling child in the back of the class began picking her nose with one hand while twirling a lock of hair with the other. Keef's innards plopped out for no apparent reason and still no one seemed to notice anything. Sure, he turned blue in the face and requested assistance, but he gained no significant attention. It appeared as though he died rather quickly.  
  
The day seemed to pass sooner than most. Dib joined Gaz afterward for the wordless walk home. Gaz was extremely intent on mastering Vampire Piggy Hunter for about the 111th time.  
  
Upon entering his house, Dib ran to his computer and logged onto his secret Swollen Eyeball network. He had been distracted all day - it hadn't bothered him when Zim threatened him or someone commented on his oversized head. He only wanted to report a sighting.of something.that he'd experienced the night before while taking out the trash.  
  
The black silhouette of an old man appeared on Dib's computer screen.  
  
  
  
"Agent Dark Booty," began Dib, "this is Agent Mothman. Speaking of which, I need to report --"  
  
"Let me guess. You saw the dark entity recently and it was line dancing with government officials from Area 51. Then it saw you and asked if it could come inside and discuss politics with you over a glass of orange juice. Finally it flew away to live with manta rays off the coast of Hawaii," ventured Agent Dark Booty.  
  
"No." muttered Dib, slightly annoyed. "No it didn't. It --"  
  
"The manta rays exploded, didn't they? DIDN'T THEY?!!"  
  
"Stop interrupting me!"  
  
"Sorry," replied Agent Dark Booty.  
  
"Anyway, I was taking out the trash when I realized that something with two large red eyes was watching me from the other side of the street. I couldn't stop staring at it.and it made this screeching noise and simply took off."  
  
"So you say it was the Mothman?"  
  
"What else could it be?" asked Dib. "I'm going out again tonight with a camera to see if I can get any proof of its existence."  
  
It was at this point in Dib's conversation with Agent Dark Booty that Gaz walked into the room, her arms folded and eyes glaring. "We're not going to Bloaty's Pizza Hog tonight," she muttered angrily, left eye twitching. "Dad had to cancel again."  
  
"Gaz, can't you see I'm in the middle of a confidential conversation?" said Dib, irritated. He smelled smoke coming from somewhere, but felt his Mothman sighting report was more important at the moment.  
  
"I don't care. Who'd wanna talk to you, anyway? Dad said to tell you that he won't be home until 1:11 this morning, so we're supposed to find something to eat for dinner."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that's great," replied Dib, dismissing his sister and returning his concentration to the topic of the Mothman apparition he'd glimpsed the night before. "Sorry about that, Agent Dark Booty. Anyway, when is the next Swollen Eyeball meeting? And could I show any photos I get of the Mothman?"  
  
Gaz still hadn't left. With half a smile she said, "By the way, I tried making toast and started a fire in the kitchen." She then turned and walked away to continue her video game.  
  
"This Saturday at nine o'clock P.M.?" said Dib, writing down the Swollen Eyeball meeting information. Then Gaz's words registered in his head. "Waitaminute --- I have to leave now. Agent Mothman out," he added hurriedly, not waiting for a response. He hurled himself down the stairs and into the kitchen, where he was greeted by flames consuming the counter and table.  
  
~  
  
Zim was busy in his labs deep beneath the earth's surface. He was trying to develop an army of one-legged moose to aid him in his latest plan for Earth's destruction. Needless to say, it was all going horribly. Several machines had blown up and still Zim had accomplished nothing. He was determined nonetheless, and kept attempting to mutate a strand of moose DNA to achieve the desired bad temperament and one-legged problem.  
  
The machine that was supposed to generate this creature from a laser beam malfunctioned. It exploded instead.  
  
Zim sighed, feeling defeated.  
  
GIR was living the good life on the ground level, enjoying a Chocolate Bubble Gum Freezy and watching a marathon of the Scary Monkey Show. Man, he loved that scary monkey. He likely loved it more than any other being on the planet. The primate growled on the television screen.  
  
"Whoo! Gotta love that monkey!" shouted GIR gleefully to no one in particular, before taking a long sip of Freezy.  
  
Night had fallen. The phone rang. Zim was still underground working on his mutant moose army. GIR muted the TV and trotted over to the telephone, picking it up. "Hiiiii!!!"  
  
There was nothing but static and screechy noises on the other end. GIR stood there anyway, with a blissful smile upon his metal face, nodding as though someone was telling him a very intriguing story. Finally it sounded like someone - or something - really was trying to speak.  
  
The voice was nothing more than electrical impulses, creepy and malicious. "My name is Indrid Cold," the voice said.  
  
"I love you too," replied GIR.  
  
The voice started to slur and get lower in tone and pitch. "Horrible explosion."  
  
"I love explosions," said GIR. "I would like six taquitos, a couple of warm, beany burritos, and some fajitas delivered to the house, please. I want a large Classic Poop with that." He hung up and trotted back to his comfortable seat in front of the television.  
  
~  
  
"Why didn't you help me with that fire?" Dib asked Gaz as he entered the living room hours later, having extinguished the flames.  
  
"I had better things to do," replied Gaz.  
  
"No, you didn't."  
  
"Don't question me," she hissed, giving him a brief death glare before continuing the vampire piggy battle on her Game Slave 2.  
  
"Alright then.I'll just go outside and see if the Mothman is there again." Dib backed out of the room and, with his trusty camera, ventured outside and waited by the spot he'd glimpsed the creature before. He could still hear Gaz's voice coming from an open window.  
  
"You and your Mothman," she said. "Get a life, Dib. No one will believe you anyway."  
  
"They will when I get proof it exists," mumbled Dib to himself, making sure the lens cap was off his camera.  
  
~  
  
A few blocks away, some old guy was taking a shower. He was enjoying it too, until he heard a voice talking to him, emanating from inside of the drain.  
  
This man was simply known as Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. This happened to be a guy who scared easily and was frightened of nearly everything on the planet. He also suffered from delirium. (Author's Note: He was the brother of the old man in "Of Oddities and Goldfish Ghosts" who always had to experience exploding manta rays.) He screeched upon hearing this strange voice and clung to the shower curtains.  
  
"No! Don't take me back to the vineyard, Paula! I'll be a good boy! I'll never shove lizards up my nostrils again!" Sid began crying as he tightened his grip on the shower curtain. He became further freaked out when he discovered that he wasn't crying normal tears, but instead tears of blood.  
  
The voice in the shower drain started speaking slurred but comprehensible words. "Exxxplllode. Fifteeeen wiill die. Hideousss exxpllosionnn." (A/N: Again, to really understand the whole voice thing, go see "The Mothman Prophecies.")  
  
Sid wanted nothing more at this point than to die. "NO! Back, you scary voice-thing! THE MARSHMALLOWS WANT ME!!!" With that said, he passed out.  
  
~  
  
Dib stared. The creature had returned. Its large, hubcap-like red eyes seemed to have a hypnotic affect on him. Dib shook his large head, clearing it, and prepared to take a few pictures. He tried to ignore the fact that he kept hearing a garbled voice in the back of his mind. But when the voice announced that an explosion causing fifteen deaths was going to happen, Dib couldn't put it aside anymore. He had to tell someone, if it would result in saving a few people.  
  
~  
  
Somewhere on the other side of the city, a party clown gone bad was setting fires and evading the police.  
  
~  
  
  
  
Well, that was chapter one. Yay. That might not have made much sense plot- wise, but it will eventually. 


	2. Mind Tricks

My thanks to all of the reviewers! Hmm. As for GIR dancing around, singing "Half Light" with Indrid Cold, I'm going to write something similar to that. It will be at the end of this story, posted after the final chapter. You wait and see. I'm listening to "Half Light" right now, in fact. Yay.  
  
"The Mothman Prophecies" is worth checking out, if you haven't seen it. For maximum effect, watch the show by yourself in the middle of the night.  
  
I'd like to read the book, but I haven't yet. Okay, let's continue.  
  
Disclaimer: With the exception of Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones, I own things not.  
  
Chapter Two: Mind Tricks  
  
It was midnight when Dib finally came inside. He was elated. For once he should have decent proof of a paranormal phenomenon. No one would call him crazy anymore.  
  
Gaz was still awake, sitting in front of the television, focused as usual on her Game Slave 2. She didn't pay Dib any attention as he walked upstairs.  
  
Dib found an empty film canister on the desk by his computer. He snapped open the back of the camera to remove the wondrous film he'd just spent - and was horribly disappointed. The film had been burned for no apparent reason. There were holes in some of the negatives, framed by crispy edges. Other parts had been turned bright shades of red.  
  
He set the film next to the canister, half angry, half worried. This Mothman was either trying to convey messages of doom or play mind tricks with random people. At this point, Dib didn't know. He didn't like not knowing.  
  
~  
  
The Scary Monkey marathon was still going strong. GIR stared at the television as though transfixed. He'd gone through roughly fourteen Chocolate Bubble Gum Brainfreezies, but didn't seem to notice. The theme of yet another episode began and GIR grinned blissfully.  
  
The phone rang again. GIR couldn't have been happier. "MAH HOMIE'S CALLIN' ME BACK!!!" he announced to no one, before leaping up and trotting over to the phone. "Did ya get the tacos and stuffs that I wanted.?"  
  
He only received a strange series of beeps as a reply. GIR took this as an invitation to dance and began doing so. "I'm dancing!"  
  
"I know you are." There was that voice again. That decidedly inhuman voice.  
  
"Will you be my friend?" inquired GIR.  
  
"In your world, everything is your friend, is it not? Do not move. Do not fall asleep. Wait for me." The voice trailed off and was gone.  
  
GIR hadn't seemed to notice that the conversation was over. He still held the phone, which had intoned: "If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try your call again. If you need help, call your operator for assistance." Finally GIR hung up the phone.  
  
The instant he did so, the neighborhood went black with a power outage.  
  
~  
  
This disturbed Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. He was deathly afraid of the unknown, and being alone in the dark seemed to strengthen the power this fear had over him. Especially since he'd just been hysterically weeping tears of blood for the last few hours.  
  
He glanced nervously around his kitchen, where he had been in the process of picking his wedgie. A few red lights flashed in the distance as he looked out the window. The only source of light now was the moon. Sid Jones might have liked the moon, if it had not been for his overwhelming fear that it should someday fall out of orbit and come hurtling toward Earth, resulting in the end of the world.  
  
He sat on the dusty linoleum floor of his kitchen, backed into the lower cupboards, and curled into a ball, as though this would protect him from anything malicious. He heard a fizzling sound coming from the wall closest to him. "SHAVE ME!!!" he shouted with surprise. A thin line of green drool slid down Sid's chin as he became delirious with fright and other such things. He felt a moth crawl into his belly button.  
  
"HORTICULTURE!!!" Sid screamed, clawing at his clothing, trying to be rid of the moth.  
  
~  
  
"WHO DARES INVOKE THE WRATH OF ZIIIIM???!!!" shrieked the Irken himself, very angry in his underground labs that the power should shut down just as he was succeeding at the installation of the bad temperament trait in his evil moose army. "Eh.I suppose I'll just have to use the generator then."  
  
Zim tried to navigate his way to the generator on the opposite side of the room. If the power wouldn't work, he'd be stuck on this lab level. He found the generator in the dark and turned it on, waiting for the lights to flicker back into function. But they didn't.  
  
"Stupid thing," muttered Zim, kicking the electricity generator as though that would achieve anything.  
  
The generator still refused to function. Yet the lights flickered on again, as well as every other electrical item in the darkened neighborhood.  
  
~  
  
Upstairs, GIR had fallen asleep, in spite of the fact that Indrid's message had ordered him not to. Without the Scary Monkey Show playing on the television, he had nothing else to do. So he slept. As electric juice began flowing through the TV cords again, he awakened.  
  
Almost instantly after the power returned, the doorbell rang. Outside stood a tall, thin man - or at least he looked human - dressed completely in black. The trench coat he wore made him look a little intimidating. GIR answered the doorbell's ring.  
  
Zim's computer had alerted him that someone was within the vicinity of the base, and he had consequently taken an elevator to the ground level to see who was there and why.  
  
He entered the living room to see GIR having a nonsensical conversation with a strange guy in black. "Who are you?!!" he demanded upon seeing the odd visitor.  
  
GIR turned to his master and smiled cheerfully. "This is Indrid! He's my friieend."  
  
"Okayyy," muttered Zim. "GIR, quit befriending humans and bringing them into the base! The mission is at stake here!"  
  
"I'm not human," said Indrid quietly. With that, he seemed to vanish into a void of blinding white light, leaving a creepy, "V"-shaped burn on the wall. The light seemed to implode upon itself, leaving no trace of anything ever happening. Except for the wall burn.  
  
Zim stared at the space that this "Indrid" being had just occupied. He then stared at his android slave, wanting an explanation.  
  
GIR tilted his head to look at Zim from a bizarre angle, his tongue hanging out as he smiled.  
  
~  
  
It was almost 1:00 am. It was now Saturday morning. Dib hurriedly searched through every one of his old magazines chronicling paranormal happenings. He hoped he'd find forgotten information about the Mothman. Giving up, he decided the Internet would be a better place to look. He had the misfortune to come across a site set up by Agent Dark Booty. It wouldn't have been so bad, but all it consisted of was a set of drawn pictures of the Mothman, line dancing with government officials from Area 51, talking with someone about politics over a glass of orange juice, and flying away to live with manta rays off the coast of Hawaii.  
  
To top it all off, there was a poem on the bottom of the web page. It read:  
  
"Recognition, Malnutrition, Concentration, Demonstration, Comprehension, Misconception, Observe my nosehairs of doom."  
  
  
  
Dib wondered if Agent Dark Booty was mentally ill. He pushed his chair away from the desk, traumatized enough for one evening.  
  
But the words on the screen suddenly seemed to melt into nothing. Dib shook his head, suddenly sure that something was playing mind tricks with him. The site might not have really existed, for all he knew. Then he heard the voice in the back of his head again. It hissed messages of an explosion resulting in fifteen deaths. He'd already heard this, but the words seemed to be getting faster, more urgent.  
  
Dib moved closer to the computer again, logging into the Swollen Eyeball network.  
  
Agent Dark Booty's silhouette appeared on the screen.  
  
"This is Agent Mothman," said Dib quietly. "Did you create a Mothman site with a bizarre poem on the bottom of the home page?"  
  
Agent Dark Booty appeared surprised. "No. Why?"  
  
"I'm seeing things. I saw the Mothman again tonight. I thought I had photographic evidence that it exists now, but the film was burned. Now something's trying to tell me that there's going to be an explosion, and fifteen people will die," replied Dib anxiously. "You believe me, right?"  
  
Dark Booty sighed. "Of course I believe you. My phone line has been strange all day."  
  
"I wish I knew what it meant."  
  
"Don't we all?" replied Dark Booty.  
  
~  
  
Gaz was downstairs, playing her video game. It seemed as though she wouldn't be satisfied until her thumbs bled. Naturally, she was very irritated when the phone rang. Who would call at this time of night? Professor Membrane always used holograms. It wouldn't stop ringing.  
  
Finally, Gaz paused her game, her eyes twitching with pure hatred, and jerked the phone line out of the wall. Somewhat happier, she sat down to continue the game. She was, after all, so very close to the final boss. The phone began ringing again. The same phone whose cord had just been disconnected.  
  
~  
  
Twelve streets away, a horde of cannibalistic mimes wallowed in a pit of mayonnaise.  
  
~  
  
The plot will become more coherent as the story progresses. Sorry if it's not meaning much right now. 


	3. Heeeerrre

I thank the reviewers. May you always wallow in Skittles. (Mmm...Skittles...)  
  
We return to this Mothman fic of death and destruction! The story actually progresses somewhat. Read, enjoy, and review.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the poor, unfortunate soul that is Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones.  
  
Chapter Three: "Heeeerrre..."  
  
It was Saturday morning. A few errant hobos wandered pointlessly through the street. A pair of bloated birds exchanged heads when no one was looking. A lone telemarketer stood in the middle of the road and ripped his business suit off, revealing boxers with a smiley face print.  
  
It appeared to be a perfectly normal morning. The sun shone and no hint of anything darkly odd lingered about the neighborhood. Dib twitched to life, having fallen asleep hours earlier in front of his computer. His eyes darted to the canister of burnt film on the desk next to him. Maybe he'd show the burnt film tonight at the Swollen Eyeball meeting... It was at least something, and Agent Dark Booty had already allotted Dib an amount of time during which he had originally planned to show photos of Mothman.  
  
He pocketed the canister and walked downstairs into the kitchen, where he opened a cupboard and reached for a box of Frankenchokey cereal.  
  
"You touch it, you die," muttered Gaz from the other side of the room, her arms folded as she glared at her brother.  
  
"I'm entitled to some of the cereal too, you know," answered Dib.  
  
"Were you also entitled to the last two cans of soda which I had already marked as MINE?"  
  
Silence ensued. Finally, Dib decided that he wanted to live to make it to the Swollen Eyeball meeting. He backed out of the kitchen and returned upstairs to organize his paranormal folders for that night.  
  
~  
  
Sid still sat on the dusty linoleum floor of his run-down house, too scared to move. He had successfully removed the moth from his belly button, but the experience scarred him for life. He kept hearing fizzling noises and knocking sounds emanating from the very wall he leaned against.  
  
Eventually, he did what any self-respecting old man would do: He stood up, struck a dramatic pose, slammed himself onto the floor, began writhing, vomited, cried, bled, removed the skin on his forehead, vomited again, and finally lied still. He used this time to catch his breath, during which foam suddenly ejected from every last orifice in his body. (A/N: I just had to write that, I'm sorry...)  
  
~  
  
It was finally 8:50 PM and Dib quietly left his house, Swollen Eyeball briefcase and laptop computer in hand. The canister of destroyed photography was still in his trench coat pocket, where he'd placed it earlier. Glancing up at the sky, he noticed a flash of lightning. And yet there weren't any clouds to produce it...  
  
Dib stopped walking entirely and focused his attention on the sky. There it was again. That flash. He continued walking, faster than before, in the direction of the secret meeting location. He couldn't help but glance at the darkening sky again. There, directly above him, eleven odd lights formed a "V" shape and sent an ominous, pulsating red beam of light onto the ground. Dib didn't know what it was - UFOs, perhaps - but he was running out of time to make it to the meeting. He broke into a run and didn't stop until he got there.  
  
Half an hour later, Dib stood in front of the Swollen Eyeball members, behind a podium, displaying the oddly burned film. An hour after that found Dib on the walk home, somewhat pleased with how the evening had gone.  
  
In order to return to his house, Dib had to walk past the skool. He paused when he saw a corpse propped against the chain-link fence that bordered it. The corpse belonged to the telemarketer, who had so freely expressed his love for the world that morning in his boxers. Dib took a few steps closer, studying the telemarketer's head for gunshot wounds. He found none. There was no apparent cause for the man's death - and he hadn't been there when Dib had walked by the first time.  
  
The telemarketer was just propped against the fence, sitting there. His head had slumped onto his shoulders a little bit, and his eyes stared wide open, facing directly ahead. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, and streams of red life juice appeared to be oozing from them.  
  
After the initial shock of this discovery wore off, Dib took out a Polaroid camera and snapped a few shots. The images appeared burn-free. Just as he was leaving, he gazed at the skool building. It was then that he heard the voice in his head again. Only this time it was just one word, over and over: "Heeeerrre....heeeerrre...here."  
  
What was supposed to happen at the skool? The explosion? The fifteen deaths? And what the hell killed the telemarketer? Dib shook his head free of whatever was speaking to him and continued the not-so- leisurely stroll back to his house. (A/N: I wrote this last scene while listening to "Half Light" again. Yay.)  
  
~  
  
Gaz was sitting on the couch alone, playing her Game Slave 2, a bowl of popcorn at her side. It was late again, and still Dib hadn't returned. "With any luck he's dead," she muttered to no one in particular as she commenced to destroy the boss of level 26.  
  
It was then she heard knocking at the door. Why would anyone do that? No one ever came around here, and if they did, they used the doorbell. Professor Membrane was on another late night quest for another disease cure, and wasn't supposed to return until the early morning hours.  
  
Fists clenched, Gaz opened the door, which revealed Indrid Cold. "Who are you?" she hissed. "Thought you'd interrupt my video game, did you? Get --" (eye twitch) "out - " (eye twitch) "of my house. Or I will be forced to invoke my wrath and skin you alive. Such beautiful suffering there will be..."  
  
It was then that Gaz finally paid attention the likes of the "man" standing on her doorstep. He was some weird combination of man, monster, light, and voice. And GIR was attached to his leg, smiling and tongue hanging out of his mouth, intent on not letting go.  
  
"I need to use a phone," said the man/monster/light/voice, his lips never moving.  
  
"No, you don't. Go away or die." Gaz shut the door and seated herself on the couch again, un-pausing her game.  
  
~  
  
Zim cackled maniacally in his underground lair. He had done it - he'd successfully created an evil moose army, which would rule the world by his side. It was strange to gaze upon, though - hordes upon hordes of one- legged moose with bad dispositions. The short Irken Invader was very pleased.  
  
~  
  
Hours after Dib finally returned to his house, he still turned every strange occurrence over and over in his head. If an explosion killing 15 people was to happen at skool, he couldn't do anything about it until Monday. And that might be too late...  
  
~  
  
What will make the skool explode? Who will die? Will Dib be able to stop it? Will GIR ever stop thinking he's friends with Indrid? Will harm befall Gaz for threatening a supernatural entity? Will Zim conquer the globe with his moose army of doom? Some answers will be revealed in the next chapter...  
  
May the Pop-Tarts be with you. It is very late and I am confused. 


	4. Wake Up, Number 15!

I know it's been a month since I've updated, but this is mostly due to the fact that I've been unnaturally busy. I don't like being unnaturally busy. No, I don't. I don't like being busy in general. Nope. But I did manage to buy a copy of "The Mothman Prophecies" book by John A. Keel. I recommend it to anyone who wants further, better insight to the legend of Mothman. 'Tis good. Anyway, I thank you for waiting so long, and I thank those of you who have reviewed.  
  
Now, if anyone's still reading this thing, let's continue with the idiocy/insanity/horror/mucus that is "Agent Mothman."  
  
DISCLAIMER: Guess what? I don't own anything other than the projectile foaming freak known as Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. NOW WHO SAW THAT ONE COMING????!!!! *hands you a trout for no apparent reason*  
  
~  
  
CHAPTER FOUR: "Wake Up, Number 15!"  
  
Dib mostly spent Sunday pacing the hallways of his house. He went on-line frequently, checking up with other random Swollen Eyeball members. Only one of them reported seeing something suspicious, which happened to be the same red lights in the sky Dib had observed the previous night.  
  
Dib logged off for about the fourth time that afternoon and glanced at the canister of burnt film on his desk. He should have known better than to think he could get a decent picture of this Mothman entity. It has been known to occur throughout paranormal history that usually whenever someone tried to take a picture of the supernatural, something malicious would happen to the camera or the film.  
  
He sighed and shoved his chair away from his computer desk, standing up. He didn't know what to do. Dib only knew that he wanted to stop the explosion, or save fifteen people by warning them somehow. Yet he didn't know which people were supposed to die. He didn't really have an idea as to when the skool was supposed to explode, or even where the explosion was supposed to originate from.  
  
Dib was confused. Again, his eyes felt compelled to gaze at the burned roll of film. Now he couldn't seem to keep them away; he just stared more intensely, more intensely, more intensely. The red burn marks on the film roll began melting it away even more than it had previously done. The whole thing, canister and all, seemed to become a liquid. A thick, red liquid. A liquid that looked suspiciously similar to blood. This mysterious blood began dripping down the sides of the computer desk. Dib suddenly was overcome with paranoia and fear in such degrees he'd never experienced before. His head began to pound - he wanted to look away but couldn't - and then he simply passed out.  
  
~  
  
Downstairs, Gaz sat in front of the television, drawing random pictures. She didn't really know what she had set out to draw, but she felt like doing so at the moment rather than playing "Vampire Piggy Hunter" yet again. Her picture gradually began to take shape. It was of a heavily tanned man dressed completely in black with a long, black trench coat as well. His head was comparable to a matchstick. Gaz had subconsciously drawn Indrid Cold. "Meh," she mumbled, crumpling the picture up and starting a new one.  
  
~  
  
Zim was more than content with his moose army. He strode over to the elevator and commanded that the computer take him to the base level. It did so. Upon entering the living room, Zim couldn't help but notice the absence of his robot slave.  
  
"GIR? GIR, I hope you're not putting Marshmallow Peeps in the microwave again," said Zim, glancing about the rooms briefly. "GIR!"  
  
No one answered.  
  
"Computer, has anyone left the proximity of the base in the last day or so?"  
  
"I believe your robot minion left yesterday with an alien from planet Lanulos who called himself Indrid Cold. DAMNIT!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ANOTHER CONVENTION???!!!"  
  
Zim chose to ignore the last bit. "An alien from the planet Lanulos? That's not located in the Milky Way Galaxy, is it?"  
  
"No. No, it's not. Hey, look! A CRICKET!"  
  
"Computer, cease your nonsensical statements. Where is Lanulos located?"  
  
"Ganymede Galaxy. They don't carry Cherry Freezies in this place? WHAT KIND OF FACILITY IS THIS??? Calm down, will you? NEVER!!! But I'm worried about your mentality. Before you know it, you'll be eating children. YOU DON'T REALLY CARE, DO YOU??!! No, I guess I really don't."  
  
Zim was slightly alarmed. He decided his computer system definitely needed an artificial intelligence upgrade, for somehow it seemed to have developed schizophrenia. Either that or it was holding a conversation with itself for lack of other things to do.  
  
No longer interested in finding his psychotic robot, Zim grabbed a package of Fun Dip from the kitchen and descended once more back down into his labs.  
  
~  
  
Evening quickly arrived that Sunday. Somewhere on the other side of town, a pair of children were taking turns gouging each other's eyes out with a blunt scissors. In an otherwise dull office building, seven lawyers from Chicago were slapping each other with slices of watermelon. Amoebas accepted the chance to breed in someone's bath water, down the street in the apartment complex there. A toothless ice cream vendor busily relieved himself into the tub of Rocky Road.  
  
~  
  
Gaz still hadn't moved from her spot on the floor in front of the television set. She'd drawn several pictures, but all of them seemed to be based upon the same thing: the oddity who asked to use a phone the night before. She didn't like it, but it invaded her brain.  
  
A hologram floated over to her, disrupting yet the fifth drawing of Indrid Cold. "Hello, Gaz," it said. Professor Membrane's image was seen, accompanied by his voice. "I hate to tell you this, but yet again I have to work late at the labs. Simmons couldn't find a way to rearrange my schedule. You'll have to order a pizza for dinner. So how's Dib?"  
  
Gaz's already very narrow eyes narrowed even further. "I haven't seen him all day. I hope we find him dead somewhere."  
  
"That's excellent," replied the holographic image of Professor Membrane. "Don't forget to feed the puppy."  
  
"It died a long time ago, you know," answered Gaz. But Professor Membrane didn't answer and the hologram disappeared. To no one in particular, Gaz added, "It died, just like WE ALL WILL SOMEDAY." Glaring at nothing, she collected her drawings and disposed of them.  
  
She picked up a phone to order a pizza. Unfortunately, she couldn't make any sense out of the sounds she heard before she even dialed - it was all nothing more than a series of beeps, hisses, and mechanical hums. "You annoy me," Gaz told the telephone in her hand, before ripping the whole thing out of the wall.  
  
She walked over to the toaster, attempted to fix toast, and once again succeeded in setting the kitchen on fire. She did manage to walk away with two burnt slices of toast in her hands, at any rate. Gaz sat down on the living room couch and began playing her Game Slave 2, allowing the kitchen to go up in flames.  
  
~  
  
Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones sat cowering on his own kitchen floor, smearing the foam that had shot out of every last orifice in his body. He didn't like his life. He was afraid to go on. He wanted to end it.  
  
Reaching a shriveled, shaking, ancient hand over the countertop, he managed to grab, from his position on the crusty linoleum, a corn cob. Standing up slowly, he used both wrinkled hands to lift the corn cob high above his head.  
  
"THIS IS FOR YOU, CLARENCE!" he shouted pointlessly, before swinging the corn cob down into his midriff swiftly, hoping to impale himself. Sid was sorely disappointed to discover that this particular ear of corn had been lodged through his stomach, but not through his backside. Very little blood was leaking out, so Sid resigned himself to walking around with a corn cob protruding from his midsection. What a suicide attempt that was.  
  
Peeking out the windows, Sid couldn't help but notice that the flashing red lights had again returned to the spooky night sky.  
  
~  
  
Dib was having an odd dream, still crumpled on the floor where he'd passed out earlier. Something started speaking to him. The metallic voice, yet again. The words got louder with every repeating sentence. "Wake up, number 15. Wake up, number 15! WAKE UP, NUMBER 15!"  
  
Dib jolted alive. Standing over him was a dark shadow that looked human, although there was something just.wrong about it. Zim's idiot of a sir unit was attached to this unreal man's leg, staring about blissfully. "I loves ya, Mister Cold," said GIR, smiling cutely up at this being.  
  
Indrid grinned viciously down at Dib, who shut his eyes. The instant he did so, a vision starting playing through his head. It was a blur, mostly, but he could distinguish two glaring red eyes, the skool cafeteria, people running and screaming, and a white burst of flames coming from somewhere. He opened his eyes again, to find that Indrid had mysteriously disappeared, Zim's sir unit with him.  
  
Just before he ventured downstairs to investigate the smoke he could now smell (which he assumed was Gaz's toaster work, again), a thought occurred to Dib. "Wake up, number 15," Indrid had said. Number 15. Dib was the fifteenth person that was supposed to die in this skool explosion.  
  
~  
  
Well, now. Wasn't that fun? Sorry it took forever for me to update. Review, won't you?  
  
It's very late once more, and I am confused yet again. Yay. 


	5. I Will See You in Time

Firstly, I apologize for taking so damn long to update this story. It seems as though I've just melted into the shadows from which I came. And though I've been hanging out in those shadows for a while, it's probably time for me to announce that I'm not dead, to clear up any lingering suspicions. I'm still here. I shall try to update more frequently.  
  
Once again, I recommend reading "The Mothman Prophecies" by John A. Keel. I've finished reading it and it's really good! So go out and slather your eyes all over the pages of that delightful book now. The paranormal is good for you. Even if you don't believe in such things, it's still fun to read about in the middle of the night.  
  
And finally, thank you, thank you, and thank you to all of the reviewers. I'm a flattered little psychopath. I also hope you are still reading this sad/juicy/ointment-coated/rotund story. If you are still following the plot of this thing.then enjoy. This is the longest chapter by far, so there. I present to you the fifth installment of "Agent Mothman."  
  
DISCLAIMER: I'm not a waffle. I'm not made of cotton, I'm not a demonic frog, and I've never eaten chalk. I also own nothing seen here except the hideous fool that is Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. There. I've said my piece. Now observe the wonderment that takes place, won't you?  
  
~  
  
"You didn't see it, did you?" - Mary Klein, "The Mothman Prophecies"  
  
~  
  
CHAPTER FIVE: "I Will See You in Time"  
  
For a moment, all Dib could bring himself to do was simply stand there, in shock of this new frightening discovery. It bothered him intensely. Surely this Indrid Cold entity could not be wrong - Dib would die in the explosion. And he now knew, thanks to the vision that befell his brain, where the bursts of white, curling flame were coming from, deep within the skool. It had been the cafeteria where all of those people were screaming and running, flailing about mindlessly. Something would happen there. Yet he still didn't know when.  
  
The smell of the smoke rising from the floor below shook Dib back into his senses. He had to do something about it before the house burned down, as it was threatening to do once again. Thank you, Gaz, for that wonderful act of pyromania.  
  
Dib hurled himself into the kitchen and set about dousing the flames that were curling everywhere. The smoke was almost unbearable, but it wasn't too bad. It was only slightly worse than the previous fire the gothic gamer had set.  
  
Having succeeded in extinguishing the fire, Dib walked tiredly into the living room, where Gaz had resumed drawing. "Why do you always let me put out your fires?" he asked, agitated.  
  
"It's just a house," murmured Gaz darkly. "I'm drawing now. DO YOU MIND? Silence yourself."  
  
Why she had to be so unfailingly dark and cruel, Dib didn't know. She was disturbed nonetheless, and he knew that it was pointless to try to speak to a psycho like a normal human being. So he shrugged off his sister's last remark and pressed on with the difficult conversation. "So, what are we doing for dinner tonight? I'm assuming that Dad's going to be late again."  
  
Gaz glared up at big-headed Dib from her spot on the floor. "If you MUST KNOW, I tried ordering a pizza a while ago. Something was screwed up with the phone line."  
  
"Yes?" said Dib, forgetting the irritated tone to Gaz's voice, now thoroughly interested.  
  
"Yes what?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"What happened was just a bunch of beeps, metallic scraping sounds, and hums. You care because why?"  
  
"Thanks, Gaz," muttered Dib, already in the process of bounding back upstairs. He had to let his Swollen Eyeball homies know about this occurrence. Upon reaching his computer, he was entertained by the idea that he was uncontrollably obsessed about the upcoming disaster.  
  
~  
  
The corn cob really hurt. Sid scratched at it, for it was quite itchy as well. He scratched more vigorously, for it seemed that his itchiness wouldn't be easily appeased. This required serious scratching. Sid clawed at his stomach region until there were huge red fingernail marks gracing his midriff. Even still, the uncomfortable sensation persisted. It was unholy.  
  
Sid flung himself onto the floor, exasperated. "DAMN THE CORN!!! DAMN IT!!!" he screamed, with such power in his voice that was not to be expected of an old, shriveled man. He squandered a whole half hour of his life, writhing on the linoleum, jerking at the corn cob in an attempt to remove it. It was lodged there firmly, however. Sid pulled harder. This just allowed for a lot of blood to come spurting forth into the world, coloring his ancient, peeling linoleum with a dazzling shade of liquid red. "HURGLE!!" he screeched wildly.  
  
A few minutes passed, Sid incessantly prodding the corn cob and clawing at his stomach all the time. Finally, he drew himself into the fetal position and just lied there, panting. Why did he have to make that foolish suicide attempt? Now he really wanted to die. Let's see, thought Sid, what can I do to end my miserable time wasted upon this earth?  
  
Upon the counter was a lemon. It was a long shot, but Sid would try. He crawled over to the counter and reached up, seizing the sour citrus fruit and staring at it for a long time. Finally, he realized that it was time for him to depart the physical world. Shakily, Sid rose from the floor. He raised the lemon high over his head, and swung it down into his midriff the same way he'd done with the corn cob.  
  
Now he knew that he was just plain stupid, if he couldn't even learn from that mistake. Gazing down at himself, Sid observed how odd it looked. Here he had a corn cob and a lemon protruding from his gut, with minimal blood leaking from either wound. It hurt and itched like hell, however.  
  
His head spinning with agony, Sid found his way into the bathroom. He studied the contents of his medicine cabinet. The wounds were throbbing with an unholy hurt. Sid sighed and settled for taking some codeine for the pain.  
  
~  
  
Night had settled in upon everything, coating the windows with glorious blackness. Dib was unnerved. Tomorrow was Monday, and that generally implied skool. Not knowing how or when the cafeteria explosion would happen, he was uncertain about going. But he had to. He must do what he could to save the other fourteen victims. Why he always did this sort of thing for humanity, he didn't know. Everyone always mocked him, anyway. Oh well. He'd gain their respect when he "saved the world," so to speak.  
  
After much anxious contemplation, Dib allowed himself to sleep.  
  
~  
  
GIR was still missing from Zim's area of residence, therefore presumably out in the night with Indrid Cold, once again. He was almost forming a bond with this supernatural being, odd as that may seem. Presently, GIR detached himself from Indrid's leg and sat down on the ground, his cyan eyes tearing up and he stared at his newfound idol.  
  
"I'll miss you, Mister Cold," he said sadly. "I don't want you to go!"  
  
Indrid, although freakishly good at telepathic communication, didn't know what to make of GIR's unexplained, hyperactive love for everything. After all, GIR's brain was composed of paper clips and other random garbage. It wasn't an actual brain, therefore Indrid could not read GIR's mind nearly as well as he could those of other people.  
  
"I'll see you in time," said Indrid's electronic voice.  
  
At this, GIR's crying ceased, and he smiled while singing the Doom Song, tapping one leg on the ground rhythmically, one tap for every "doom."  
  
Indrid just seemed to dissolve into the darkness.  
  
~  
  
Monday morning dawned, crisp and eerie. Dib stretched, remembering where he was, and what was about to happen to the skool. He didn't want to continue his day, but forced himself to prepare for skool and head downstairs to breakfast in the blackened kitchen.  
  
Eventually he found himself sitting uneasily in Ms. Bitters's classroom. He noticed the glares and taunting looks Zim kept throwing him from across the room, but amazingly he paid it no mind. His head was heavy with the idea about what could happen during lunch. Dib would warn them. Yes, that's what he'd have to do.  
  
~  
  
"So, as I was saying, class, by the time your filthy grandchildren reach retirement age, our world will be so hideously populated with humans that we'll have a global population density of 1,200 people per square mile. At this rate, in 900 years from now, we'll have a global population density of 3.7 people per square foot! I'm sure you realize that this isn't possible, so naturally, a significant chunk of the present population will have to be wiped out by disease before then," lectured Ms. Bitters. (Author's Note: I received the exact same lecture two weeks ago from my Global Studies teacher. ^_~) "Have a nice day," she added as closure to that particular lesson.  
  
The bell rang, signaling lunch. Dib followed his classmates down the hall to the cafeteria of doom. An oppressive atmosphere just seemed to hover over the place. Something awful was going to happen.  
  
Foolish students filed through the lunch line, collecting their toxic waste that served as sustenance. Within a few moments, Dib arrived to collect his own "food." His head was beginning to pound, possibly as a warning - he had to say something!  
  
"You're all in danger! Something bad is gonna happen, I know it!" he declared to the first lunch lady he encountered.  
  
This lunch lady was an old hag, hard of hearing and quite unscrupulous (she'd made it her routine to put her very own earwax chunks in the mayonnaise when they served corn and mayonnaise). She looked at Dib and grinned slightly. "Your head is large," she announced after several uneasy moments.  
  
Whatever Dib was expecting, it wasn't that, even though he was frequently haunted by this fact. "MY HEAD IS NOT BIG!" he shrieked in rebuttal. Then he tried again - "You have to get everyone out of here! The place is going to blow up!"  
  
The old hag didn't comprehend his cries this time. "We've got nice chicken," she replied, holding up a sickly-looking drumstick that had aged long past its expiration date and had turned an awkward shade of green. "It's smelly."  
  
"That's - that's nice," stammered Dib, looking disgruntled. "There's going to be an explosion --"  
  
"CHICKEN!" interjected the lunch hag.  
  
"Good. About the explo--"  
  
"It will be the best smelly chicken you've ever ingested!" promised the lunch hag, grinning deliriously.  
  
"I acknowledged that," replied Dib, frustrated. "Fifteen people will die -- "  
  
"Such smelly chicken!"  
  
"I KNOW ABOUT THE CHICKEN!!! Fifteen --"  
  
"Let's pray to the chicken god!" suggested the lunch hag, raising her wrinkled arms, looking skyward, and spinning around pointlessly.  
  
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!???" shouted Dib in extreme exasperation.  
  
From somewhere toward the back of the room, an ugly child lifted his filthy head and stared at Dib, and the rest of the people in the room followed suit. That is to say, all but Gaz, who merely twitched and continued eating after deciding her brother wasn't worth it.  
  
"Dib's crazy!" the ugly child announced.  
  
"Yeah!" agreed Zita. There was pause, and then everyone threw a small portion of his or her lunch at Dib.  
  
Dib, now spattered with various food articles, stood there, looking very disgruntled. He was angry, irritated, and desperate not to look stupid. This was hard to do, because the explosion did not happen that Monday. It was simply slated for a different date. But the trouble was, now that he'd deliriously announced that an explosion would happen and nothing did, no one was likely to believe him.  
  
There was a thick silence that enveloped the cafeteria. It was during this time that Zim leapt onto a table and waved his clenched fists in the air. "I HAVE DESIGNED A MOOSE ARMY TO RULE THE WORLD BY MY SIDE!!!" Then, wordlessly and emotionlessly, Zim resumed his seat and continued prodding the dirty earth edibles on his lunch tray analytically, as though nothing ever happened.  
  
Saddened and dejected, Dib didn't bother to collect his tray and sit down. He merely walked out of the room.  
  
~  
  
Later that evening found the phone ringing in the Membrane household. This was the only phone that remained hooked up, for the other two had been brutally disconnected by Gaz.  
  
Dib answered. "Hello?"  
  
It was Indrid. "Hello, number 15." Dib winced when he heard this. "Yes?"  
  
"My name is Indrid Cold. It will be Tuesday."  
  
"What will be Tuesday.?" asked Dib cautiously.  
  
"Why ask what you already know? I will see you in time."  
  
A strange howling sound shot through the phone line and into Dib's ear, causing him to jolt with fear and hurl the phone across the room in surprise. He shut his eyes, but every time he did, he saw either those two haunting, hypnotizing, red eyes, or the image of a matchstick-headed being in a trench coat. Both images weren't pleasing to think about, so Dib kept his eyes open as much as possible. He did not want to sleep.  
  
He did not want to die.  
  
~  
  
  
  
That was truly fun and entertainment for the entire family. Once again, I'm sorry it took so long for me to emerge from the darkness long enough to update this. Thanks for reading it. Look for Chapter Six soon.  
  
I'll see you in time. 


	6. Death, Flames, and Correct Prophecies

I am back again, doing another massive update of all of my stories. I am not dead; quite the contrary, in fact. Alright, so I'm lying. I am half dead, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing!! Mighty ozone, you thought I'd abandoned this site, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU!??! Don't you lie to meeee!!! Ahem.anyway. I'm listening to System of a Down right now. Yes I am. I somehow doubt you care. Actually, "Streamlines" by System of a Down would be a good song to listen to while reading this chapter. On with the story, you say? I've been waiting too damn long for the next chapter, you say? I've almost given up on you, you say? Well, wait no longer! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the sixth chapter of "Agent Mothman"!  
  
But first - I thank the reviewers, as always. You guys have been so nice. Thank you for waiting so long to read yet another installment of my filth.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, with the exception of a certain suicidal old man named Sid. Who saw that one coming?  
  
~  
  
CHAPTER SIX: Death, Flames, and Correct Prophecies  
  
Tuesday. Tuesday. Tuesday. Tuesday. TUESDAY. The word echoed over and over in Dib's oversized skull. Today. Today. TODAY. There would be a hideous explosion in the cafeteria today, and Dib had to do something to prevent it. This was unlikely, however - he knew he probably wouldn't be able to prevent something from happening when he didn't even know how it was supposed to happen, especially with so little time to work out the mystery. He'd have to rely on warning people. Or he'd find away to keep everyone from going to the cafeteria. And who were the other fourteen, anyway?  
  
Dib pulled on his wonderful trench coat of almighty power (and it is magical.oh yes, but that's another story) and trudged downstairs to get some breakfast. After all, those horrible Frankenchokey things he ingested in the morning were considered "brain food," and even though he was genius already, he'd need all the help he could get.  
  
He found Gaz at the table, eating some curiously non-burned toast. She was paying little attention to it, though, and more to the images on her GameSlave, but nothing else was new.  
  
"Morning," he said lazily, for lack of anything else to say.  
  
"Mm," replied Gaz. There was a long pause before she added, "I'm number fourteen."  
  
Dib dropped the bowl of cereal he was planning to consume. "What?"  
  
"I'm number fourteen," she repeated, giving him an angry "can't you comprehend anything?" type of stare.  
  
Dib's brain almost broke into a thousand little pieces. "How could you know about that? Did Indrid tell you? Why do you even care? I never thought you'd care! Do you know what's supposed to happen? Has he been talking to you too? Have you had the visions, the nightmares?! HAVE YOU EVER DECORATED THE SAME MANATEE TWICE???!!!"  
  
Gaz took a bite of toast and held up her left hand to silence Dib. "This 'Indrid' guy called again last night on the only remaining functional phone after you went to sleep. Stupid sleep. Anyway, he said I was number fourteen, there was a fizzling sound, and the phone exploded." At this point, Gaz looked away and pointed to the blackened mass of wires and plastic parts that now lay on the ground seven feet from where she sat eating breakfast.  
  
Dib stared at it. "Do you know what that means?"  
  
Gaz shrugged. "Only that I'm supposed to die." "That's not the first assumption anyone else would make."  
  
"I know. But death is neat."  
  
"You're so emotionless about it!"  
  
"What's it to you?"  
  
The two stared angrily at each other for a long time. Finally, Dib broke the sacred silence. "Indrid told me that the cafeteria is going to explode today."  
  
"Neat."  
  
Dib sighed and continued. "He told me that I was number fifteen. It didn't take me long before I figured out that I am supposed to be the fifteenth soul to die today in the accident, for he has also said that fifteen total corpses are to be carried away."  
  
"I like corpses."  
  
Dib sighed yet again. Why did his sister have to desensitize herself from the world the way she had? Couldn't she see that she was in imminent danger? "My point is that if he said you're number fourteen, then you are going to die just before I do. If you want to live, stay away from the cafeteria."  
  
Gaz didn't respond. It was time to leave anyway. She was smart enough to fend for herself. Dib left the Membrane household and went on his own way.  
  
~  
  
Sid looked at his bloody form in the mirror. He hated his appearance. So gray, so frazzled, so ancient, so unbearably ugly. It didn't help that he had two large, unnatural objects protruding from his midriff of crusted blood. As he continued staring hatefully at himself, he realized that he had never really left teen angst mode upon leaving high school. It was a trait that had remained with him for all of his life.  
  
Why did he have to be like that? The world didn't understand him, it never had! He was ugly, and his odor was unpleasant! Oh, most unpleasant! He reeked of sweat, blood, and dead skin, which was currently peeling away from his scalp.  
  
He'd tried codeine for the pain. That had helped physically, yes, but now he wanted some Prozac to help his mental wounds. And he was horribly mentally wounded. He hated himself, he hated everything that frightened him in this world. Which was everything. The clouds wanted to steal his soul, and he was pretty sure that the mimes in the park had drunk his blood before. He shuddered at the memory.  
  
Cheddar. Sid also discovered that he smelled like cheddar in places that he refused to discuss with himself.  
  
He'd kill himself this time - that was for sure! Heh. He'd show himself! Hah! Laughing deliriously, Sid found a flyswatter in the kitchen, and lightly tapped himself on the forehead. He reeled backward as though he'd been struck full on in the face with a cinder block. Falling to the linoleum with a heavy thud, his brain shut itself off and he finally died.  
  
Twelve naked horsemen in Great Britain exchanged nosehairs in celebration.  
  
~  
  
It was lunchtime. This time Dib knew for sure that something horrible was about to happen. People were moving about jerkily, as though being controlled by some higher force. The air was thick with infuriating anticipation of many funerals to come. The lunch ladies even seemed more robotic than usual. (Dib had made theories earlier about some kind of government plan to build prisons for the human filth of this skool, and had constructed lunch ladies to aid in this attack.)  
  
Everything was normal, otherwise. Everyone thankfully accepted the gross items that they assumed were food. Dib didn't accept any such thing, however. He climbed onto an empty table in the middle of the room, stood up, waved his arms, and shouted a warning.  
  
"I NEED YOUR ATTENTION!!! THIS ROOM COULD BURST INTO FLAMES AT ANY MOMENT AND YOU ALL NEED TO GET OUT! FIFTEEN OF US WILL DIE IF YOU DON'T!!! GET OUT NOW!!"  
  
Everyone's eyes met Dib's blankly. He was afraid of this. He should have thought of a way to keep them from coming here in the first place. But not everything could be lost - it never turned out this way. The hero was supposed to save everyone, no more problems, no lives lost, end of story. Luck would have to favor Dib. But would it?  
  
Gaz, seated where she was, was able to look past her screaming brother into the realms of the cafeteria, behind the food counter. She saw something flicker. A spark of something. Her eyes widened slightly. Dib hadn't been full of crap, after all. She should have known better, anyway - she'd also gotten strange messages from this "Indrid Cold," and things had generally been odd lately.  
  
She stretched her right arm onto the table and swung it to the side, thus purposely knocking her tray onto the floor. Standing up and glaring silently, she exited the room of doom (soon to be a tomb) and began her journey to a random room on the other side of the school, far, far away from the aforementioned room of doom. And it was such a room of doom. DOOM!! Gaz smiled to herself. She'd just let them all die. They had, after all, only been people. Hideous, horrible people.  
  
Meanwhile, no one had removed their eyes from Dib as he continued to shout commands and Indrid's prophecies at them in vain. Dib didn't notice what Gaz had. Which wasn't good.  
  
There was a fizzling sound, and then finally Dib turned around, looking wildly over the food counter.  
  
Flames. Coming. Fast. Must leave. Can't help the others. Get out. Now. Or die.  
  
Dib yelled in surprise. He wasn't heard over the sound of the explosion and everyone else's screams. He dove off to the side as quickly as humanly possible, flung himself around a corner, dodged a child who was flying through the air, and hurled himself out of the door, along with a few lucky others.  
  
~  
  
Hours later found the flames dying down at long last. The firefighters finished the job and left promptly, for it was getting late and they didn't want to miss the all-new episode of "Ed," which was a television show they found to be most admirable.  
  
Dib and Gaz stood together, looking at the wreckage, Dib in defeated horror, Gaz in amusement. About two-thirds of the other kids had managed to escape somehow. Zim was among them. He stood in the corner of the playground, where all of the survivors had been herded, smirking at his human enemy. Dib didn't pay any mind, however. This was still too shocking. As usual, he hadn't been able to save the world.  
  
Oh well. He couldn't win.  
  
The "rescue workers" were pitiful. The whole rescue team consisted of mimes, plumbers, angry sumo wrestlers, bitter hot dog vendors, and the overzealous President of the Hair Club for Men.  
  
Dib tried to flag one of them down. "Hey, you there --" he said to an errant plumber.  
  
The plumber didn't acknowledge Dib's presence.  
  
"Hey, you! Hello!!? Talk to me!!" Exasperated enough to last a lifetime, Dib used a magical trout that appeared out of nowhere to beat the ignorant plumber upside the head. "Now, tell me how many people died in there!"  
  
"You have my total attention now," replied the plumber, eyeing the trout nervously. "Um. I think about thirteen people died in there. Two of them were lunch ladies. Yep. I don't like peppermints."  
  
"What caused the explosion?"  
  
"Erm.one o' them lunch hags farted too near a gas stove.um.yerp."  
  
Dib nodded in recognition. "I told you," he muttered to Gaz.  
  
Gaz smiled darkly.  
  
~  
  
In an empty garage somewhere, GIR and Indrid Cold were practicing a dance routine to a mysterious song known as "Half Light."  
  
~  
  
Every time a skool cafeteria explodes, an angel gets its wings.  
  
THE END  
  
~  
  
This isn't really the end, as I still have to post that "Half Light" music video thingy with GIR and Indrid Cold as the seventh chapter yet. So keep on the lookout. I plan on posting that on December fifteenth, to commemorate the collapse of the Silver Bridge. For those of you who don't know, the Silver Bridge collapse is what the Mothman and Indrid Cold were omens of in real life. It collapsed on December 15, thus my reasoning of when to post the "Half Light" thing. Forty-some people lost their lives. 


	7. Half Light Music Video

Well, it is December 15, and you know what that means. Time to post the horror that is the "Half Light" music video. Now, perhaps I must say a few things first. This little installment here would be pointless to read unless you have the song "Half Light" to listen to while viewing it, or at least have a vivid imagination. I'm gonna be descriptive here, yes I am. But it should be enjoyable. If you don't have "Half Light," then I recommend downloading it or playing the Mothman DVD "Half Light" music video special feature in the background to listen to, if you have that instead. If you have no way of doing any of the above, then I've wasted my time and you'll just have to use your imagination. But that's okay, right?  
  
This is the final thing that will be added to this story. Just like the actual Mothman/Indrid Cold ordeal in reality, it all comes to a close on December 15, the day of the Silver Bridge collapse. This be it.  
  
And remember kids, dying in a bridge collapse might be your fate, too.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim, the whole Mothman thing going on here, or "Half Light." Thank you, and enjoy.  
  
~  
  
"Half Light" -- By Low w/tomandandy, feat. Indrid Cold (really, that's what it says) -- Available on "The Mothman Prophecies" soundtrack  
  
[Before any music starts, we see white lettering in all capitals on a black background, just as in the actual music video. Instead of simply saying "MOTHMAN," however, it says "AGENT MOTHMAN." The words stay there for about four seconds.and then music starts. We see Gaz standing alone in the darkness, playing a guitar, producing the first few sounds of the song.]  
  
Gaz: ::looks ominous, evil, and such as she glares silently at the camera, strumming said guitar::  
  
[Suddenly, we see a close-up, slow-motion view of a drop of blood splashing onto metal. This is very brief and almost immediately cuts to a view of Dib, joining Gaz on the musical scene by playing the drums. And now, my friends, the song has a beat to it. No sooner than that comes to pass, the camera makes an eerie swiveling move, and we see that Zim has joined in, playing bass in the darkness there, too.]  
  
Zim: ::plays his wonderful bass guitar overzealously, but nonetheless produces a good sound::  
  
[We cut from this to various short scenes from the story. These scenes are the ones in which Dib is studying his dissolving roll of film, Gaz is jerking the first phone out of the wall, and GIR is clinging onto Indrid's leg. These scenes are all viewed during the instrumental introduction to the song. But now it is time for vocals.yes, indeedy. Vocals. The camera focuses on GIR and Indrid, dancing about in some dark area of the planet (or maybe Lanulos), with a reddish hue about the place.]  
  
GIR: ::sings:: Staaayy, half life, half night and daaayy; traaade, half light, stolen awaaayy; Fade, black light, white light, I'll staaay; Staaay, half life, half night, and daaayyy...  
  
[We hear some screechy noises in the background and see a brief scene of the Mothman, large red eyes hypnotizing you. The camera then cuts back to GIR, who is bobbing his head and tapping his leg as he sits in the aforementioned darkened area with Indrid, still singing.]  
  
GIR: I can't staaayy!  
  
[The drums come in especially heavy again, and the scene from "Agent Mothman" in which Dib is running to his Swollen Eyeball meeting, with the flashing red UFO lights shining from above, is seen briefly. Suddenly the name "INDRID COLD" is flashed quickly, allowing the camera to cut to a view of Indrid walking down the street, late at night, looking all spooky and such.]  
  
Indrid Cold: ::begins singing/muttering/prophesying darkly:: GIR and Gaz: ::sing:: In the half light I'll see you in time!  
  
Gaz: ::wonders why she's singing::  
  
[Again, the camera keeps cutting from one short view to the next: First allowing a glimpse of Gaz playing her guitar and starting to bob her head, to Zim on the bass looking thrilled with himself, then to Dib on the drums again, next to the flashback scene of the lunch lady suggesting to Dib that they worship the chicken god, and finally to a flashing blood red and black screen that says: "WAKE UP, NUMBER FIFTEEN."]  
  
Indrid Cold: ::continues muttering/prophesying/being creepy in the background::  
  
All Except Indrid (who still be muttering): ::sings:: In the half light, in the half light I'll see you in time.  
  
[The music calms down again for a little bit. The only sounds being emitted are those from Gaz's guitar. The camera zooms in on her increasingly headbanging self, only to have Gaz look up and shove a hand in the lens, blocking herself from view angrily. The sound of a phone rings in the song, and the scene from this story in which Gaz tears the other phone out of the wall is shown. The music picks up again.]  
  
GIR: ::still sings and dances cutely with Indrid:: Staaayy, half life, half night, and daaayy; traaade, half light, stolen awaaayy.  
  
[We see Dib, standing on a table in the cafeteria, preaching to the multitudes, telling them to leave or die. Next we view the Membrane kitchen, going up in flames.]  
  
GIR: Fade, black light, white light, I'll staaayy; staaayy, half life, half night, and daaayy.  
  
[Two large eyes are shown, glaring out of nowhere amid the screechy background sounds.]  
  
GIR: I can't staaayy.  
  
[Rapid fire messages start pelting themselves onto the screen: "CAFETERIAS EXPLODE.", "BRIDGES COLLAPSE.", "WE ALL DIE," and "BURNT TOAST."]  
  
All Except Indrid: I cant staaayy.  
  
[The drums again set in hard and we see weird, time-lapsed scenes briefly of the moon traveling across the sky on an otherwise dark night, and Dib pacing about his room, wondering how to stop the cafeteria from exploding. The next message that flies onto the screen for a nanosecond is "NACHOS." The camera then does an odd cut to a scene of GIR and Indrid doing a very out-of-place tango.]  
  
Indrid Cold: ::continues once again with the dark whispering::  
  
All Except Indrid: In the half light, in the half light I'll see you in time!  
  
GIR: Staaayy.. ::dances around the reddish-lit room with his buddy, Indrid::  
  
Everyone, including Indrid Cold: In the half light, in the half light I'll see you in time!  
  
GIR: Staaayy, half life, half night, and daaayy.  
  
Everyone Else: In the half light I'll see you in time!  
  
Indrid Cold: ::continues yet again with the dark muttering of random phrases::  
  
[For the rest of the video, the vocals continue in this broken manner. Right about now, though, the drums return, and we see a clip from the movie of the biggest chunk of the Silver Bridge falling into the Ohio River. This cuts back to more deranged messages on the screen ("GOVERNMENT CONSPIRACY?" and "DEATH IS NEAT") as well as the scene from "Agent Mothman" in which the cafeteria explodes and hordes of filthy little children try to exit as fast as possible.]  
  
GIR: ::sings:: Oooohh..ooohh..ooohh..oooohh.. ::is shown headbanging in that dark/reddish room with Indrid Cold::  
  
[A final shot of the two glaring red eyes is shown.]  
  
Zim: ::is really getting into the song now:: Staaayy..staaayy..  
  
GIR: ::keeps making those ghostly "ooh" noises throughout the end of the song::  
  
[The final scene from the story is shown here: Gaz and Dib observe the damage done to the hideous skool, happy in the knowledge that they somehow survived the disaster, while errant plumbers and mimes work their way around the wreckage, looking for bodies.]  
  
Gaz: ::headbangs slowly while playing the guitar::  
  
[The music fades and we briefly glimpse Indrid Cold grinning viciously. We see a shot of MissEgypt111 in her black trench coat, walking away into the night with the manuscript for "Agent Mothman" in her hands. The lights with which we have been seeing the Invader Zim characters flicker and fade, allowing the screen to return to blackness. A single message ("I'LL SEE YOU IN TIME") flickers there and goes away.]  
  
Here ends the video. 


End file.
